Owner of a Broken Heart
by notecrafter
Summary: Annabeth never got over him, the nameless face. He-who-will-not-be-mentioned broke her heart, repeatably. Our scared little girl isn't so scarred anymore, but the pain runs deep, and some wounds just won't heal.
1. Sing in the Beginning

**It starts with a song (written by Annabeth Chase):**

An owner of a broken heart  
A loner forever and ever  
But forever only spells tragedy  
So I blink the dust out of my eyes  
And my tears are clearing the sky

And he said 'pretty girls shouldn't cry'  
But who ever said I was pretty?  
Who ever said I was worth his time?  
And when he said 'I love you'  
He lied.

And rain falls down like shattered glass  
On the broken street  
With tears at your feet  
And we cry out 'it's never gonna last'

And broken hearts  
Fall down like stars

But forever only spells tragedy  
So I blink the dust out of my eyes  
And my tears are clearing the sky  
And all night, I'll be dreaming about you

And your heart breaks  
All the mistakes  
And that smile's too much

And he said 'pretty girls shouldn't cry'  
But who ever said I was pretty?  
Who ever said I was worth his time?  
And when he said 'I love you'  
He lied.

Why'd you have to make me cry

* * *

**A/N: Yes, yes, I shouldn't be swamping myself with more work, and you're going to hate me for not updating on my three stories, but this idea _will not get out of my head. _Don't worry, most chapters will be much longer than this. I just really wanted to get this out there now. **


	2. Stuffy Silence

**June 20th**

"She looks comatose! I'm worried, what happened?! Where's Percy?" I squeaked, curling up into a tight ball. My sobs were violent. Why was I crying? Why did Percy's name upset me so much?

Piper nudges Hazel aside, peeking at my face under my tangled hair and behind my knees.

She shakes her head, "she just got her heart broken. By Percy, I assume." Piper remarks looking pained. She doesn't hurt as much as I do now. She doesn't ache all over, her eyes aren't leaking faster than Niagra Falls. Her heart's still whole. I can't decide if my chest is broken or just hallow, and all I want to do is sleep. I know sleep will never come.

I stand on wobbily legs, grateful to be in the bathroom. I tear through the medicine cabinet, grabbing the NyQuil. I down several mouth-fulls, the bottle vertical before Piper grabs it out of my hand, the liquid pooring all over me.

The last thought I have before I black out is how much I wish Hazel's arms were Percy's.

**August 17th**

"Annabeth!" I grunted in response, sadly unable to find enough energy to even turn my head in the direction of the hallway. A cacophony of clatters ensued as I heard Piper's attempt at dinner.

I grudgingly got up from my warm and safe bed, my furious hunger out-weighing most all of my thoughts. I still thought about him, I always do. I don't have a single moment where I'm not talking to him, and each second it's driving me to the brink of insanity.

My sigh was heavy and loaded as I padded down the hallway, arriving in the kitchen which was more congested than usually with several pots and pans littering the counters. A frozen chicken, turkey, and a package of bacon were all sitting on the stove, one step closer to rotting decay.

Piper poked her head sheepishly out of the freezer, frozen entrées in each hand. I shake my head as I put everything away, rumaging through the cupboards to find the soup mix. I pulled out my reliable pot, filling it with water and watching it start to boil.

Piper was awkwardly standing by the kitchen table, tapping her foot and playing with the napkin holder. I gave her a pointed look, _spill. _

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you with dinner, Annabeth."

"No big deal," I mustered enough energy to shrug my shoulders, my eyes trailing to the pot in response of the solitary bubble that popped on the surface of the water.

This might be worse than watching paint dry. I turn back to Piper, her face suddenly ferociously determined as she shooed me away.

"I can make a simple soup mix. Go sit down and eat your dessert first." Piper managed to squeaze a smile out of me with that. I walked over to the freezing, finding the richest milk chocolate ice cream we had and ate it right out of the container.

Piper's eyebrows raised at me, "what, I'm the only one likes milk chocolate." I explain, Piper decides to give up, rolling her eyes so far into her head I thought she would get a head ache.

Piper manages to cook the soup short enough not to burn it, and long enough so it's not raw. I feel strangely proud. God knows how horrible Piper's cooking use to be. We eat in silence, spoons scraping against bowls with chicken broth sloshing around.

Every time I would go to look at my bowl to take another bite, Piper would lookup at me with her eyebrows knitted in concern. By the sixth time, I was tired of it.

"Two months, Piper, I'm fine."

She didn't seem to believe me for even one minute. "I know this can't be easy on you..."

"We're not talking about this, Piper." I snap at her. We both jump as we hear the front door open and close down the hallway, the small apartment seeming to shrink before our eyes as Jason ducks in oder to make it through the kitchen.

"Jason," Piper pops up bubbly and I have to fight to keep the scowl off my face. How can she go from somber to overexcited in mere seconds? I sigh, Jason's gaze shifting to me as his eyebrows slowly raise. He gives me a cheesy smile, kneeling down until he's eye level with my crouched figure.

"How are you doing?"

"Don't ask me that like I'm dying. Last time a checked I didn't have some life threatening disease, I don't need to be your charity case." I snap at him, crossing my arms over my chest and jutting out my jaw defiantly.

"Same Annabeth," Jason chuckles as him and Piper sit beside me on the ancient table bought used.

"Annabeth..." Piper starts, I shake my head.

"You will not be giving me an intervention or a lecture. I get up every morning and eat three square meals a day. You have nothing to complain about."

"Annabeth, this isn't living." Piper gently tells me. I still scoff, but I can't help but look down at my lap longingly.

"I can't live without him."


	3. Blue Cupcakes

**August 18**

When I roll over to find the calendar right by the wall, the date hits me. My chests tightens, tighter than usual, the pressure blinding. This morning almost tops the morning after. I had woken up with a head ache, regretting my decision of downing that medicine. I quickly wished I had done it again, when I found out that I had slept off my initial sense of shock. I had spent the whole day crying, my eyes eventually sealing closed.

I curled up into my pathetic little ball. I remembered, a year ago, I woke with a smile on my face. He was so charming, sweet and thankful, my head swam with his love. I catch myself before punching the wall, knowing how paper-thin it would be, and right above Piper's sleeping figure. Her room was right next to mine.

I didn't know where my anger could go, I didn't want Piper upset, as I knew she would be if I hurt myself. I rarely feel angry at him, the fury is always coupled with guilt, Piper says I'm still to quick to brush off his mistake. She says I should be ready to punch his lights out by now, not scream for him.

That's what I do, scream and cry and rant. In my sleep, of course. The nightmares are horrible. A good dream is a strange concept to me know, they all leave haunting imprints. In the morning I'm resigned to make up for Piper's many sleepless nights. She's taken to wearing headphones after realizing how inevitable my nightmares seems to be.

I remember her and Hazel trying to convince me to visit counseling. I locked myself in the bathroom for three days, Leo had to come over and pick the lock. Jason was fully ready to knock down the door three hours in, but the girls had some insane idea that I was just frightened and if I came out on my own it would be so much better.

The door slams, I can hear Hazel gasping when she realizes that no one is up. She was always the first person to wake in our little trio. Piper shuffles awake, heading out into the kitchen.

"Hey... Your kids... Cupcakes... Forty... Yeah..." The words cupcakes stand out the most to me, I always felt the most disconnected to my memories in the kitchen, we never spent much time in there.

When I walk outside my room, I see a container with about forty potentially delicious cupcakes. I pop the lid when Hazel smiles at me, giving me permission.

Blue. The cupcakes are blue. August 18... Blue cupcakes... My vision tunnels onto a solitary cupcake as I drop the lid.

"Hazel, the date," Piper is murmuring, _oh god, oh god, oh god, _over and over.

"Annabeth!" Hazel is gasping, desperate, squeezing me into a tight hug.

"Not... Your... Fault..." I'm surprised I'm capable of words. I stumble to the couch, getting up quickly when I remember the day 364 days ago.

"Too many memories..." I settle for Piper's room, curling into my familiar ball of pain on her plush green carpet. Her room is stylish, neat, the opposite of him. I close my eyes for the dream, or nightmare.

It's a nightmare, right?

Piper is in front of a bunch of middle schoolers, her students this year, and the next two years after. Her hands are moving, and her voice is more than convincing as she talks about moving on from things, because to her, that's what "young adults" do the most: linger too much. She's talking to these attentive kids, about me. Pulling out fancy terms from her master's degree in School Counseling and her bachelor's degree in psychology. Going on and on how they shouldn't get hung up on mistakes people have made at their expense. Is that what I'm doing? After a decade of companionship, I would think I would be able to cry a little bit when he left with me.

Someone's pressing their warm hand into my back.

"We need to help her." _Hazel..._

"She does this every night." Piper looked heart-broken when I looked at her, her face glowing in the moonlight coming from her window. I had awoke with tears streaming down my face, I do that a lot. I wipe my tears, sitting up and hugging them both.

Hazel clung to me, "I'm just so sorry," she squishes me even tighter.

"We all make mistakes." I sigh, going into my room. I strip the bed of its comforter, glad for the plainness of the white sheet, I had thrown out the blue one a week ago. The lack of the pillow and my sticky face -from my dried tears- served as blessed distractions.

**August 19**

It dawned on me when I looked at the clock, 12:01. It's officially August 19. Sweet relief.

* * *

**A/N: Am I being too descriptive? Concentrating on the details and not the big picture, I mean. I know Annabeth is horribly out of character, she really isn't this weak. I really think Percy is the one who made her strong, though, right? It's so depressing. I might just right a one-shot about Percy and Annabeth just to make myself feel better. Tell me how I can improve, this feels quite lacking. **


End file.
